come to me poet

tell me poet...

when did you believe roses
melt a young lady's heart
and dare
to nip their thorns, one by one
till your fingers bled
and found
it took too much;

when the blood inside you
first simmered, incessantly
intense, as the embers seemed
to burn your soul
with greed and longing
realizing, satiation
is for the meek

when you found fidelity
merely impregnates
love
and obscures its meanings
then, you cried
of tears, wishing
you knew lust as much!
but you didnt..

come to me poet
let's talk about it...
we have the whole night, to us
a world, sometimes cruel
often unforgiving...
but it waits, for us
to explore it's secrets
and perhaps, before it sleeps
find us an escape
or maybe a dream...